Fair Trade
by Kelcor
Summary: Tag to Countdown - My first venture into this wonderful fandom. Rated T for mentions of torture and drugs. Nothing graphic, though.  Focuses mostly on the Neal and Peter friendship but the other main characters also make appearances. Now AU & COMPLETE!
1. Aftermath

_A/N As the summary indicates, this is my first White Collar fic. Funny how I'm always nervous of the response when entering a new fandom! Am I the only one? _I have three chapters already written, so I will post one every few days or so... this will give me time to finish the final chapters - which are all mapped out, btw. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this story! Any and All reviews are MORE than welcome! And may just get the following chapters posted sooner than planned! *wink*__

_A/N 2 I have been trying and trying to write more for my Three Rivers story but this little diddy just flat out REFUSED to leave me alone! I will return to 'When Past and Present Collide' as soon as my muse allows!_

**Chapter One - AFTERMATH**

As soon as Neal told Mozzie that he wasn't going to leave with him, wasn't going to run away with the treasure, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off not just his shoulders but his heart. Because, as fond as he was of Mozzie, as much as he cared about his oldest friend, his bond with Peter was stronger. The FBI agent who had chased him across the globe and back, had arrested him - twice! - had, nevertheless, become his closest friend. Neal chuckled to himself, feeling like he was nine years old again, deciding who was to be labelled as "best friend". Would that make FBI headquarters their club house? Okay, it was official. Neal Caffrey was downright giddy! Making the decision not to run, without being forced to make the choice by having a pair of handcuffs slapped on his wrists, was having an odd effect on the ex-con. Part of him wished he could tell Peter, make him proud, but that would mean telling him about the treasure... which would have the exact opposite of the desired outcome. Regardless of the fact that he hadn't stolen the treasure, he _had _kept it a secret once he found out that Mozzie had been the one to sneak the art out and blow up the warehouse. For months, Neal had entertained the idea of leaving, running away and never looking back, partially because of the rift created in his and Peter's friendship when Peter had been sure that Neal was guilty of the theft and had proceeded to investigate him with an undeniable vigor - the agent had probably been feeling a little betrayed himself, Neal realized in hindsight. Since then, however, their friendship had proven stronger than any suspicion or second hand guilt and had survived all the tension and almost-lies.

Unfortunately, Neal's good mood deflated into an empty vacuum of despair when the cab finally pulled up in front of the Burke household... surrounded by both police cars and unmarked FBI vehicles, emergency beacons flashing! A knot of concern formed in the pit of Neal's stomach as he watched Peter screech to a stop at the curb, leap out of his sedan and bolt up the walkway. The knot grew exponentially as he followed, unseen by his partner and fearing the worst. El? No. Please, God, no!

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as he stepped into the house and heard Peter's voice, filled with dread and barely contained panic, "Where's my wife?"

"Boss, the neighbours saw them leave in a black van," Diana said, softly. "She was alive when they took her."

"Peter," Neal ventured in hesitant query.

"He took my wife," Peter said, pain filled eyes now focused on Neal. Then, in an instant, that pain morphed into an anger Neal had never seen in the other man. He saw it up close and personal today, however, when Peter suddenly lunged forward and slammed Neal back against the wall, pinning him there with both the arm across his throat and the glare boring into his heart and soul. "This is your fault," Peter growled low in his throat. "Keller took El to get to you and your stupid treasure!"

Neal's eyes widened. "No, Peter, I don't have - "

"Don't even bother denying it, Caffrey," the agent bit out venomously. "Everyone _knows _you stole it! Even Keller knows! And now he has my El!" The words were yelled with such outrage that Neal was left speechless. Never, in all the years he had known him, had Peter _ever_ looked at him with so much hatred.

He barely noticed Jones pull Peter off him, nor did it register that Diana was leading him out of the house until the cool evening breeze caressed his flesh, pulling him out of his stupor. "I think you'd better go home, Neal," Diana was saying.

"No. No, Diana, I know Keller better than anyone. Please, I want to help."

"I think you've done enough already, don't you?" With that, Diana gave him her back and re-entered the house, shutting the door behind her.

Neal immediately pulled out his cell phone and dialled. "Mozzie, call me back when you get this," he whispered into the phone. "It's urgent, Mozz."

WCWCWC

Neal left Peter's place on foot. He walked aimlessly around the city, not even caring if his anklet went off. He wasn't sure how much time had passed before his phone finally rang in his pocket. The caller ID showed a number he wasn't familiar with but he answered anyway, knowing that the perpetually paranoid Mozzie may have purchased a burn phone to call him back.

"Hello?"

"_Hello, Caffrey. Miss me?"_

"Keller," Neal bit out, halting his steps and scanning the area around him, knowing there was a very real possibility that his nemesis was nearby, wanting to revel in Neal's pain. He saw no one, however. In fact, whatever street he was on seemed completely deserted. "Where's El?"

He could almost hear Keller shrug as he said, _"I thought that might get your attention."_

"You should've just taken me."

"_Aw, now where's the fun in that?"_

"This is fun for you?" Neal asked bitterly.

"_Little bit,"_ Keller responded, sounding way too gleeful for Neal's liking.

"What do you want?"

"_Come on, Neal. You're smarter than that."_

"The treasure."

"_And the FBI lapdog gets the prize."_

"I already told you, I don't have it."

"_Don't insult my intelligence, Caffrey," _Keller snapped.

"Fine. I'll lead you to the treasure. But you have to let El go, first. Unharmed."

There was a long pause. _"We'll meet you at your apartment. And, Neal? Come alone. I get even an __**inkling**__ that you brought the FBI with you, and I'll kill her. You know, I will."_

"I'll come alone, Keller. Just, please, don't hurt her."

The line went dead. Neal snapped his phone shut and took off in the direction of his apartment.

WCWCWC

He entered the house quietly, wary of an ambush from the less than scrupulous Keller. All the lights were on downstairs, which was odd because June was supposed to be out with friends for the evening. Neal wanted nothing more than to call out to her, ensure she was safe, but doing that would inevitably put her in danger. So, he held his tongue and proceeded up the long stairwell leading to his apartment.

The door was open but only darkness awaited him in the realms beyond. He reached out and flipped the switch, flooding the room with ambient light... On the floor, mere feet away from him, were the too still bodies of El, Sara and June! "No! No, no, no, no!" He took a step towards them. The needle prick he felt in the side of his neck brought him to his knees before he could even think about defending himself. But he no longer cared. June was dead. Sara was dead. _**El was dead. **_Peter would never forgive him.


	2. Questions and Answers

**Chapter Two - QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS**

As the hours passed by, the number of FBI agents swarming through the house had tapered off until the only people remaining were Peter, Diana, and Jones. Hughes had ordered Peter to stay home and get some rest, but had promised in the same breath that they would find El. When Jones and Diana had offered to stay with him, he'd refused, telling them that, if he couldn't be there himself, he wanted his two best people on the job. He had almost said his _three_ best people, then remembered his altercation with Neal. Part of him regretted that, but another part was still angry with his CI for not telling him the truth about the treasure. Neal's greed had gotten El kidnapped... possibly worse.

Now, Peter stood in his living room, posture stiff, holding a picture of himself and El. She had her hand on his shoulder, her cheek pressed up against his, and a smile that had lit up his entire world ever since the day he met her. She had been standing amongst some of the most priceless works of art, yet she had been - and still is - the most breathtaking beauty in the room. The more he had talked with her, the more her beauty captivated him until, finally, he had asked her out to dinner - with 'subtle' prompting from El, of course! It hadn't taken long for his infatuation to turn into love and they were happily married within six months. The night he had proposed to El had been the scariest night of his life but he was more sure of his love for her than he had been of anything else in his life. That fact held true to this day, and would continue to do so until the end of time.

Still holding the picture, his gaze moved to another on the mantel. One of himself and Neal, standing in the kitchen, wearing freshly pressed tuxedos. His arm was draped over Neal's shoulders. Neal's arm was across Peter's back. Both smiled with excitement about the upcoming sting operation. But there was something else in their eyes. Respect. Friendship. And, just like that, Peter's rage against the younger man disappeared. He knew in his heart that Neal would never wish harm on El, or anyone else for that matter. Even Fowler, the man Neal had been sure had killed Kate, the love of his life, had lived to tell about having Neal's gun shoved in his face. True, Neal had crashed through that window with the sole intent of killing Fowler but Peter had been able to talk him down from the edge he had been teetering on. Not knowing what else to do, he had insisted that the younger man look at him and, when he complied, Peter had thrown as much concern and sympathy into his gaze as he possibly could. Their affection for each other was usually shown through brotherly banter and teasing but desperate times called for desperate measures. And it had worked. Neal put the gun down and allowed himself to be taken into custody, temporary as it was.

Peter's attention moved back to the photo in his hands. Now, Peter was the one on the edge and he had alienated the one person - other than El - who could pull him back from it. A tear slipped free and landed on the glass of the picture frame, pooling between the images of himself and El.

That's when realization dawned. Neal always had a firm control of his emotions but had a propensity to do something stupid when that control was lost. And the only time he lost control was when someone he loved was hurt or hurting. Add to that the belief that he had lost everything and 'something stupid' fast became 'something idiotic'! If Neal thought Peter hated him, that they had crossed a line they could never come back from, that their friendship was effectively over...

Muttering a curse under his breath, Peter put the picture back on the mantel, grabbed his keys and ran out the door.

WCWCWC

Peter called Diana from the car, praying that he wasn't too late to save Neal from himself.

"Boss?"

"Anything?"

"Not yet, Boss. Sorry."

"Keep me posted. For now, I want you to check Neal's tracking data. Tell me where he is."

"Sure, Boss. Just a sec." He could hear the gears turning in her brain almost as surely as he could hear her fingers on the keyboard. "Is something wrong, Boss? You don't think Neal teamed up with Keller, do you?"

"Not a chance," Peter said, meaning every word. "But I think maybe Keller wants more than just the treasure."

"Like what?"

"Not what. Who. If I'm right, Keller's after Neal."

Diana bit off a curse, then: "Okay, the tracking data is coming up now. Neal is... at home." Her surprise was clear.

"I'm on my way there now," Peter told her.

"You want us to meet you there?"

"No. Not yet. Your main priority is to find my wife. I'll take care of Neal. I'll call if I need you."

"Got it, Boss."

Diana disconnected the call and Peter stepped on the gas.

He screeched to a stop in front of June's massive home, jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs. After ringing the bell twice and getting no answer, he tried the door... it was open. Okay. Not a good sign. He drew his weapon and entered the house with caution.

Following a quick sweep of the downstairs, Peter made his way up to Neal's apartment. This door had been left ajar, the room beyond in darkness. Could be a trap. Keller could be holding Neal hostage in there. Taking a deep breath, FBI training taking over, Peter crouched low and swung the door open all the way. He moved his gun from left to right, then his attention darted back to the centre of the room. Three bodies lay before him. June. Sarah. And...

_**El!**_

Peter scrambled into the room. He knew he would be of no use to El if he was killed, so he remained wary of his surroundings. Once sure he was alone in the room, but for the three bodies, he knelt beside his wife and checked for a pulse. Thump, thump, thump. Peter bent low, pressing his forehead against El's collarbone, and said a silent prayer of thanks to a God he was becoming more sure of with each passing minute.

He gently caressed a large bruise just above her brow, then quickly checked on Sarah and June. He was rewarded with the same proof of life in each of them. Returning to El, he sat her up so that she was practically in his lap, her back pressed against his chest.

Realizing he still hadn't seen his CI, he called out loudly, "Neal?" No answer. "Neal!"

Fearing for his friend, but knowing he had to get help for El, June and Sarah, he pulled out his cell phone and called for an ambulance. While giving the address, something caught his eye beneath the hem of El's pant leg. He leaned forward and pulled the fabric up a bit... and found Neal's anklet, green light blinking on and off, as if mocking him.

This situation had just catapulted from bad to worse!

WCWCWC

Peter, Diana, and Jones congregated quietly in El's hospital room. The love of his life had yet to wake up and Peter refused to leave her side. He even flashed his FBI credentials to supersede hospital visiting hours.

This particular hospital's version of _Nurse Ratched_ had not been happy about it but had nevertheless realized that any argument would be fruitless and simply stalked out of the room in silence, almost bowling over Hughes as he entered.

Without saying a word, Hughes stepped over to El's bedside and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Then he released her hand and turned to Peter. "How is she?"

"Doctors say she's stable but they won't know for sure if the drug had any lasting effects until she wakes up."

"Do they know what drug was used?"

"Drugs, plural. Apparently, Keller manufactured a concoction of his own, or paid someone to do it for him. Either way, the doctors say that if someone were given enough of it, they'd be facing a serious addiction," Peter did his best to keep his voice deadpan but the other three could see how much this was tearing him up inside.

"And," Hughes started, hesitating but then making the decision and plowing ahead, "how much was El given?"

"The doctors are pretty sure that the trace amounts found in her system, and June's and Sarah's, were not enough to cause an addiction," Diana informed him.

"But," Jones added, "they have no way of knowing for certain until they wake up."

Hughes' sigh was deep and heartfelt. "Peter, I am so sorry that this happened. But El is strong, she'll pull through."

"She's the strongest person I know," Peter agreed, eyeing his wife with a sad wistfulness. Not for the first time, he wished that Neal was here with him. "Any word on Neal's whereabouts?"

"Peter," Hughes stated, matter-of-factly. "You need to face the fact that Neal took advantage of the situation and used the time to escape."

"No, it just doesn't track. Neal would never be so callous as to put his tracking anklet on El. That's a gambit that could only be played by Matthew Keller."

"So, maybe Keller did that part," Hughes allowed. "But that doesn't mean that Neal didn't remove the anklet himself and just leave it in his apartment for someone else to find. It wouldn't be the first time."

Peter sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "I know." He didn't want to believe that Neal would run after everything they had been through together, but he had to admit it was a possibility. The last thing Neal would want is to go back to jail. And if he really did believe that Peter hated him, that all was truly lost, well, running would definitely qualify as idiotic. "Jones," Peter said, "I want you to find out from the Marshalls if any of their anklet keys have gone missing recently."

"On it," Jones confirmed, already heading for the door.

"Diana?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"I want you to check all airports, bus stations and train stations, even water ports, see if anyone saw someone matching Neal's description. Don't forget to get their surveillance footage, too."

"You got it, Boss," Diana said, casting one final glance at El as she headed for the door.

"And, Diana?" Peter added. "Check to see if Keller owns any property in New York State. Maybe we missed something last time." When Hughes opened his mouth to object, Peter held up a hand in a placating gesture. "No harm in covering all our bases, right?"

After a moment, Hughes acquiesced. Diana gave Peter a nod of confirmation, then stepped into the hallway, leaving Peter and Hughes alone with a still unconscious El. An awkward silence filled the room, both men wondering how to continue on the subject of Neal Caffrey without it escalating into a heated argument, as was often the case with them.

Turns out, they needn't have worried.

"Peter?" The word was soft and mumbled but Peter would recognize that voice anywhere. He spun around and saw his beautiful, albeit groggy, wife staring over at him.

"El!"

WCWCWC

Peter and Hughes stood back so that the doctor could check El over and the final verdict was a positive one - the drug used to knock her out had caused no permanent damage or ill effects. Peter was so relieved, tears sprang to his eyes. His El was going to be okay.

With the doctor gone, Peter stepped back up to the bed, while Hughes hung back, giving the two a few moments of relative privacy. Peter took El's hand and held it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss across the back of her knuckles. "You had us worried, hon."

She smiled up at him, her eyes glistening with her own unshed tears. "I'm sorry, hon. I'll try to do better next time," she added with the barest remnant of her trademark smirk.

"I did notice that you put up quite a fight," he told her honestly. "I think, the pasta will have to wait for another night, though."

They both chuckled softly but the laughter failed to reach the eyes of either of them.

Hughes cleared his throat. "I'm glad you're okay, El," he said softly, moving to the foot of the bed.

"Thank you, Reese."

"I'm sorry, El, but I have to ask. How much do you remember?" Hughes did his best to ignore Peter's glare.

"It's okay," El told him, giving Peter's hand an encouraging squeeze, drawing his attention back to her. "Two men grabbed me as soon as I got off the phone with Peter. I don't know how they got into the house but - "

"Were either of the men Matthew Keller?" Peter asked.

She looked up at him, her eyes bright with tears. "No. I didn't recognize either of them."

"What happened next," Hughes gently prompted.

"They forced me outside and shoved me into a dark van. I hit my head on one of the wheel wells," she continued, touching the bruise on her forehead gingerly. "I must have passed out because the next thing I remember is Keller on the phone with Neal. He told him he wanted to trade me for the treasure." She locked eyes with her husband. "He said we'd meet at Neal's apartment and that he'd kill me if Neal brought in the FBI. Then he ended the call and covered my mouth with a cloth. That's the last thing I remember."

"What about June and Sarah?" Hughes inquired.

"What about them?" El asked, clearly confused.

"Peter found them laying next to you on the floor of Caffrey's apartment."

Horrified, El sat up straight in the bed. "What? Are they okay?"

"Yes," Peter told her, casting another glare at Hughes before turning a gentle gaze on his wife. "They were drugged just like you. They haven't woken up yet but the doctors are confident that they will be fine. A confidence that has surely been spiked since you opened your eyes," he added, smiling warmly.

At this point, El's repressed tears finally fell. Peter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "Okay, Hughes, I think that's enough for now, don't you?"

"Yes, of course," Hughes agreed, looking slightly chagrined as he made his way out of the room.

WCWCWCWC

A week later, Peter was sitting at his desk at the bureau. He hated to leave El's side for even a moment but she had convinced him that the best way to find Neal was to get back into his FBI frame of mind, which meant going back to the office.

He had, however, left an agent to watch over the place - more importantly, his wife - in his absence.

Sarah and June had both woken up a few hours after El but were unable to offer any information to help solve the mystery of where Neal had disappeared to. If anything, Sarah's statement only added to the unknown elements surrounding the case. Peter wanted nothing more than to give Neal the benefit of the doubt, but all evidence, such as it was, pointed to his CI somehow getting a key to his anklet - possibly with the help of the also missing Mozzie - and skipping town to avoid being arrested for stealing the U-Boat treasure.

But there were some parts to that theory that just didn't sit right with Peter. First and foremost, Neal would not have left town without first ensuring that El was okay, and even if he had done that from a distance, agents had been posted at every possible escape route out of the city within an hour of El being admitted into the hospital, making it highly unlikely that Neal would have been able to slip past them upon her waking.

Secondly, Sarah had told Peter that a message had been left for her with her assistant, presumably from Peter, asking her to meet him at Neal's with her voice altering software. That software was now missing. Since Peter had not left that message, it was obvious that Keller had lured Sarah to Neal's apartment, but why? What purpose did that serve? And why did he need the voice altering software?

As for June, apparently, she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and gotten herself caught in the crossfire, so to speak.

At that moment, Jones came into his office with an inscrutable look on his face. "What is it, Jones," Peter asked, trepidation in his voice.

"The U.S. Marshalls finally got back to me."

"Took their sweet, old time, didn't they?"

"Yeah," Jones said with a humourless chuckle. "They actually had a good reason this time. Turns out, a few days before, uh, the whole Keller incident, a U.S. Marshall was mugged and left for dead in Denver, Colorado. Whoever attacked him took, not only the key ring with keys for about fifty different anklets, but also his wallet _and _his badge. He was rushed to the ER as a John Doe and was unconscious until yesterday. As soon as the Marshalls made the connection, they called us."

And there it was. The third and final glitch in Hughes' theory that Neal had simply cut and run to avoid a prison sentence for stealing the treasure. Violence was just not Neal's style. If anything, the kid went _out of his way _to ensure no one got hurt during one of his cons and/or heists. Unfortunately, this did nothing to ease Peter's mind and he realized that part of him had been hoping that Neal had run, because the alternative was so much worse.

Peter's thoughts were interrupted by the chirp of his cell phone. He looked at the caller I.D. and smiled - El. "Hey, hon. How're you feeling?"

"I think you should come home. Right away."

Peter sat up straight in his chair, "Why? What's wrong?"

WCWCWC

El had been cryptic in her reasoning for why he should come home but he had already been out the door and on his way so it didn't really matter, as long as she wasn't in any immediate danger, which she promised him she wasn't.

When he arrived at the house, the agent he had left in the utility van out front had nothing to report, which made Peter even more curious about why his wife had insisted on him coming home right away.

Despite her assurances that she was safe, Peter rushed into the house, heart pounding more with apprehension than fear. His concern must have shown on his face because El was instantly wrapping her arms around him and planting a calming kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry for being so cryptic," she told him. "He insisted."

Peter opened his mouth to say 'who' but before the word could leave his lips, Mozzie stepped in from the kitchen. More incredulous than angry, Peter asked, "How did you get past my agent?"

Mozzie simply cocked his head to the side and gave him a look that said 'Seriously? Do you really have to ask?'

Realizing that he really didn't, he offered up another question, much more important than the first. "Where is Neal?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"You honestly expect me to believe that you don't know where he is, either?"

"Honey," El interrupted. "Maybe you should sit down."

"I don't want to sit down," Peter groused, his impatience growing with each silent moment that passed. Because, if Mozzie didn't know where Neal was, that meant...

"Honey," El said, more firmly this time.

With a sigh, Peter did as he was told and took a seat at the dining room table. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"I believe that's a reasonable assumption," Mozzie admitted.

El sat down next to Peter. She took his hand in hers and said, "Honey, this is one of those times where you're just going to have to listen to the whole story before asking any questions."

"I always listen to the whole story," he began, until an amused look from El cut him off. "Fine," he acquiesced. "I'm listening."

"Okay," Mozzie said, casting a grateful flick of the eyes to El before returning his attention to Peter. "I received an urgent message from Neal about a week ago, asking me to call him. I only hesitated because we... didn't exactly part on the best of terms." Rushing on before Peter could ask about that, he said, "The next day I saw a news report about the beautiful Mrs. Suit being kidnapped and I instantly tried to call Neal. I've been trying to reach him ever since."

Peter waited a moment, then figuring the pause meant he was allowed to pose a question, he said. "Why did Neal call you?" A squeeze of his hand indicated that this would be one of the parts that he wasn't going to like.

A long moment of silence followed. Mozzie looked about to bolt out of the house but he took a deep breath, apparently to fortify himself, then said, "Because Keller wanted the treasure in exchange for El's life." Peter's eyebrows rose as indication that he already knew that but, in keeping with his promise, he simply pursed his lips and inclined his head for Mozzie to continue. "And I have the treasure."

The words were said so softly that Peter had to strain to hear them. He was pretty sure this was the first time Mozzie had openly admitted to something he had done after his time as The Dentist at the age of twelve. The fact that he hadn't demanded full immunity before his admission spoke volumes about how worried he was about Neal. "So, Neal gave you the treasure?"

"Not exactly," Mozzie hedged.

"Then what, _exactly_?" Peter exclaimed, making a move to stand only to be yanked back down into his seat by his beautiful and endearing wife. He took a deep breath. "Go on."

"Remember when Neal told you that he didn't steal the treasure and blow up the U-Boat?"

"Oh, I remember," Peter replied, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"Well, he was telling you the truth."

Peter shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around what Mozzie was telling him. "I'm not following."

"I stole the treasure. I blew up the U-boat. Neal had nothing to do with it, didn't even know about it until hours after the fact."

This time, El was not able to prevent Peter from surging to his feet. Truth be told, the anger boiling in his veins was not directed towards Mozzie. Well. Not _only _towards Mozzie. It was directed mostly inward, at himself, for jumping to the conclusion that Neal had stolen the treasure. However, Mozzie was not aware of the direction of his wrath and took a couple of steps backwards.

"So, Neal was protecting you. And all this time, the two of you were laughing behind my back, planning to run off to some tropical island bought and paid for by the money from the treasure!"

Mozzie's eyes widened. "How did you know about the island?"

"Not the point here, Mozzie," El interjected softly.

"Right. Sorry. Look, at first Neal was going to leave with me but only because he was devastated by your mistrust, your doubt. But once his relationship with you started to get back to the way it was before the whole treasure thing, he began to have second thoughts. And third thoughts."

Peter had been pacing back and forth across the living room but Mozzie's last words gave him pause. He looked at the quirky little man, disbelief clear in his eyes. Then realization hit and he smiled knowingly. "The manifest," he said. "He knew I had part of the manifest and couldn't risk selling one of the items and getting caught."

"Yes and no."

"Mozzie," El said, her tone full of warning.

"Okay, okay. We found out you were keeping it in your brand new safe and made a copy of the key." This time, it was Peter's eyes that widened in surprise. "Neal made a copy of the partial manifest."

"When?"

"A couple weeks ago."

"So, why not leave then?"

"He told me the manifest wasn't in your safe, after all."

"Why would he say that?"

"Because I was pushing him to leave and... and he wanted to stay."

"He wanted to stay?" Peter's voice was again filled with incredulity.

"Neal likes his life here. Being your partner, your friend. He has a new family with you and El in his life. June was like a surrogate mother. Plus, he was falling hard for Sarah. When he weighed the pros and cons about leaving, it was all of you, or me. Four against one, so to speak. You all won." He looked down at his feet. "A crazy conspiracy theorist like myself didn't stand a chance," he mumbled.

Peter was too stunned to speak. El, on the other hand, got up and wrapped her arm around Mozzie's shoulders. "Mozzie, I'm sure Neal was hoping you'd stay here with him."

Mozzie's eyes lit up with a hopeful intensity. "You think?"

El smiled and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Yeah, Mozzie. I think."

Suddenly, Peter spun around to face them, his eyes boring into Mozzie. "What does all this mean for Neal?"

Before Mozzie could answer, his cell phone rang. The caller I.D. read "Neal". He instantly flipped it open. "Neal! Where are you?"

"_I'm sorry, Mozzie, but Neal can't come to the phone right now. He's a little... tied up."_

"Keller," Mozzie bit out, eyes moving to Peter in horror.

TBC

_A/N This was originally written as two separate chapters - mainly to prove that I could write a chapter without a cliffhanger ending... but one chapter was too short, so I had to combine them. Bonus points to whoever can guess where the original Chapter Two ended. LoL Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the read. I'm hoping to have Chapter Three up in about a week or so. Please leave a review? They make me smile! Seriously, I check my email over and over again just to see if one of you wonderful readers left a review! I just can't help myself! :o) ~Kelcor_


	3. Revelations

_A/N Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews. I am so sorry for the delay. RL has been crazy. Awesome, but crazy. Anyway, I hope this was worth the wait. ~Kelcor_

Peter instantly signalled for Mozzie to put the call on speaker, something that went against everything the conman stood for. However, Neal's life was at stake and Mozzie was more than willing to put aside his own rules in order to save his friend. So, with no more than a second's hesitation, Mozzie tapped the screen on his phone so that Peter and El would be able to hear the conversation, as well.

_"You remember my voice? Mozzie, I'm touched."_

"Don't be. I have perfect recall. I remember your voice the same way I remember what a praying mantis looks like. It's all about word association."

Keller's laugh was hard and cold. _"I take that as a compliment."_

"You would," Mozzie snarked. "Now, where is Neal?"

_"Oh, he's hanging around here somewhere. He says 'hi', by the way. I'd love to continue with this idle chit chat but I'm running out of patience. I want the treasure, Mozzie."_

Startled, Mozzie glanced at Peter, who shook his head, telling him not to play all his cards just yet. "What makes you think I have it?" Mozzie asked, trying desperately to hide the trepidation in his voice.

_"A little birdie named Caffrey told me."_

"Even if I did have the treasure, which I don't, Neal would never tell you."

_"Under normal circumstances, that would be true. But no food or water for close to a week can be an amazing motivator."_

Peter's two handed grip on the chair in front of him tightened to the point where his knuckles became almost translucent. He glanced at El, who had covered her mouth with both hands to keep from crying out in shock. Her eyes flooded with tears, something Peter had seen way too much of in the past week. He released the chair and pulled her into his arms.

As for Mozzie, he had no idea how to process this information. He floundered for words as he pictured in his mind's eye a starving and dehydrated Neal Caffrey.

Sounding like he didn't have a care in the world, Keller's tinny voice didn't falter as he continued his taunting. _"Add to that the drugs in his system, and Neal has been singing like a canary."_

Mozzie's legs gave out on him and he all but collapsed into the chair that Peter had just released from captivity. He stared hard at the phone. After a brief moment, Mozzie felt a strong hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, he was surprised to see Peter's sympathetic gaze aimed at him. Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention back to his conversation with the sociopath known as Matthew Keller. "How do I know he's even alive?"

_"Agent Burke just has to check his email." _Mozzie turned frantic eyes to Peter once again. _"That's right, I know he's there." _Keller added with a touch of amusement._ "Hello, Peter. El, you look ravishing this evening. That colour blue really accentuates your beautiful eyes."_

"You won't get away with this," Peter growled into the phone, pulling El all that much closer as his eyes swept the room for a hidden camera before eyeing the dark exterior of the house.

_"Your empty threats mean nothing to me, Agent Burke. I sent you a link to a website I created specifically for this purpose. You know what I want, Mozzie. The only question is... are you willing to make the trade? How much is Neal's life really worth to you? I'll contact you in one hour with the particulars."_

WCWCWC

Peter, El, and Mozzie, all sat in front of Peter's laptop which currently rested on the dining room table. The email Keller had sent Peter was open on the screen, the mouse hovering over the attached link. Peter exchanged a glance with El, then Mozzie, each offering a nod to confirm they were ready... well, as ready as they were ever going to be.

Taking a fortifying breath, Peter clicked on the link. The sight before him made his stomach lurch. El gasped and buried her face in his shoulder. Mozzie didn't make a sound but Peter could practically _feel_ the rage emanating off the other man. Then again, that might have been his own rage he was feeling.

The screen showed them a video feed of a nondescript room. Neal was hanging by his wrists from the ceiling. The fact that he was swinging a bit from side to side told them that his feet weren't touching the floor and, therefore, provided no support. His suit pants were torn and dirty, his shirt and jacket were no where to be seen. He looked emaciated, his ribs all too prominent against his flesh. Nothing like the fit and toned young man they knew him to be. His head was dropped forward, leaving them to wonder if he was even alive. Peter's heart filled with dread at the prospect that he had lost his CI, his partner, his _friend_.

What happened next surprised all of them.

WCWCWC

_...Hungry... Thirsty..._

Neal had no idea how long he had spent in this room. He vaguely remembered being strapped to a chair, denied both food and water until he revealed to Keller where the treasure was. He'd been telling the truth when he'd told him he didn't know. Mozzie hadn't announced the exact location of the island he was going to buy as his new home, for obvious reasons. And, truth be told, Neal hadn't wanted to know. The fewer secrets between himself and Peter, the better.

_...Hungry... Thirsty..._

Then, after several hours, possibly even days, of hearing the same question over and over again, Keller produced a syringe. Neal's arms were tied securely to the arms of the chair, and the chair was bolted to the floor, making his desperate attempts to pull away fruitless. The tourniquet was cinched above his elbow and the syringe was inserted into his vein. Next thing he knew, he was suspended from the ceiling by his wrists.

Everything after that was clouded with hallucinations and hazy memories. He prayed fervently that the part where he told Keller that Mozzie has the treasure was one of the hallucinations.

He just had to survive a little bit longer. Peter would find him. Peter always finds him.

_...Hungry... Thirsty... -_

_**"Hello, Neal."**_

Neal's head shot up in astonishment but his expression quickly changed to one of relief. The figure in the doorway was encased in shadows but he'd recognize that voice anywhere. The tone was different, though, more menacing. Pushing that aside, Neal allowed his elation to show. "Peter! I knew... you'd... come for... me!" He was dismayed by the weak and raspy sound of his own voice but was determined to be strong for Peter. Besides, he had to know... "How's El? Is she... okay?"

_**"You killed her, Caffrey!"**_

"What? No! He promised... he wouldn't hurt her." His strength was fading fast and this little snippet of information didn't help. "Please, Peter... I'm so... sorry! You... have to... forgive me!"

_**"Forgive you? Why should I forgive you? Your greed took my El away from me! June and Sara, too."**_

"No. No-no-no. That's... not... " Neal sagged forward against his restraints, felt the sob building up in his chest.

"_**Everyone who dares to care about you ends up dead. Even dear ol' mom and dad!"**_

At the mention of his parents, Neal's despair grew. "How'd you -?"

"_**How'd I know? Come on, Caffrey. I'm the FBI. Did you really think you could keep something like that from me forever?"**_

"Personal... you... promised..."

"_**Promises are for friends. We're not friends. I couldn't possibly hate you more than I do right at this very moment. I'm through with you, Caffrey. These past three years I've spent with you? They've been nothing but a giant waste of my time!"**_

"No," Neal whimpered, finally gathering enough strength to raise his head once again. "No, this is... hallucination. You're not... real. Peter'd... ne'er say... to me..."

"_**Wouldn't I? Haven't I hinted at all this for a year now? I was trying to spare your feelings as much as possible but El's death is the last straw. I want you out of my life for good! Keller could kill you for all I care!"**_

Without another word, the dark figure stepped away from the doorway and disappeared.

"Don't leave me," Neal said, though it came out as not much more than a whisper. After several moments, he realized that Peter wasn't coming back, was _never_ coming back. Peter hated him. El was dead. June. Sara. Mozzie had gone to ground, probably never to be heard from again. Neal couldn't stop himself from thinking... _What do I have left to live for?_

WCWCWC

"Uh, what just happened?" Mozzie asked, a note of horror in his voice.

"That's why Keller needed the voice altering software," Peter realized. "He's using it to torture Neal."

"Honey," El said desperately, "you have to find him!"

"I know, hon. I'm working on it." He pulled out his cell phone and dialled. "Diana? Any progress on properties belonging to Matthew Keller?"

"A few prospects but nothing's been confirmed yet, boss. Hughes is convinced Neal left on his own, so it's just me and Jones looking into Keller, now." Peter bit off a curse but Diana, being as observant as ever, must have heard something in his tone because her next words were: "What's happened?"

Peter looked at his watch. Only 15 minutes had passed since Mozzie's conversation with Keller, though it felt like a lifetime. "We don't have much time. Keller just sent me proof that he has Neal. He's," he paused a moment to force back the bile that rose to his throat at the very thought of his next words. "He's torturing him, Diana."

WCWCWC

Half an hour later, Peter was pacing back and forth across his living room, his concern for Neal eating away at him. He went over and over the scene on the website in his mind. How long had Keller been recording his conversations to get that many words to apply into Sara's voice altering software? He felt sick about all the things Neal now thought Peter had said but there was nothing he could do about that until he found Neal and told him straight out that that wasn't him. For now, he had to distract himself with other aspects of the case. Instead, the one thing that popped into his mind was: "I still don't understand why Neal didn't run when he had the manifest."

Watching him from the sofa, El and Mozzie glanced at each other. El nodded, allowing Mozzie to take the reins on this one. "I have two words for you, Suit. Big. Brother."

"Really, Mozzie? You're really going to throw your conspiracy lingo at me now, of all times?"

"Honey," El interrupted, her tone pulling him up short faster than her words ever could.

"What?"

Mozzie let out a put upon sigh. "You know, for an FBI agent, you're really not all that bright," he said with a somewhat snotty tone, and instantly backtracked when he caught the heated glare coming at him full force from said FBI agent. "What I'm trying to tell you is, Neal couldn't leave because he knew he would be letting you down. He thinks of you as a big brother, Peter. You could even be a father figure to him. Either way, disappointing you, hurting you, or El, is the last thing he would ever want to do."

WCWCWC

By the time Keller called, they had a few different possible locations where he could be holding Neal. The first was a farmhouse upstate which had been owned by a now deceased couple who had attempted to adopt a young Matthew Keller years ago, but had ended up having to send him back to the orphanage when he killed (with glee!) their cat _and_ their dog. The second possibility was an old warehouse located just outside of town. The third was a penthouse apartment, owned under the name of one of his heretofore unknown aliases.

The instructions he gave Mozzie, where and when to meet, led them to believe he was keeping Neal at the warehouse. Besides, the farmhouse was too far away for Keller to be able to get there by the appointed time and a penthouse certainly didn't provide much privacy when one wanted to torture their arch nemesis.

Still, all three locations had to be checked, just to be safe. So, while Diana and Jones stayed on Mozzie for the duration of the trade, a team was dispersed to each the warehouse, the farm, and the penthouse. The latter was the least likely but it was still possible that something might be going on in the basement or in an empty room in the underground garage. Peter was making sure _all _bases were covered.

Before Mozzie left with Diana and Jones, Peter asked him what Keller had meant when he'd told Neal that everyone who cares about him dies, 'even dear ol' mom and dad'. Mozzie's face took on the saddest expression Peter had ever seen on the quirky little man. "That's something you're going to have to ask Neal," Mozzie said softly. "It's not really my place to say."

"Is it something I need to know?" Peter asked, not wanting to pry into Neal's past without good reason, though, admittedly, his curiosity was starting to get the better of him when it came to Neal's childhood.

Mozzie considered his answer for a long moment, then: "Is it something you _need _to know? Not necessarily. But is it something you _should_ know? I would have to say yes."

WCWCWC

Once Hughes was made aware of the situation, he swore to fully back whatever play Peter decided on. Peter chose to lead the team going upstate to the farmhouse himself, more because of a gut feeling than anything else. After all, his gut hadn't failed him yet.

As he was putting on his bullet-proof vest and preparing to leave, El pulled him aside. "Be careful," she told him, her eyes saying so much more.

He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her lips. "I will, hon."

"Find him, Peter."

"You know I will."

"It's just..."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

El hesitated a moment. "Neal never had the treasure."

"I know," Peter said, drawing her into his arms. "I owe him a lifetime full of apologies."

"I owe him a lot more than that," El whispered against his shoulder.

Peter pulled away to look at her, his eyes filled with both concern and an unspoken question.

"He never had the treasure," she repeated softly. "So, right from the beginning, when he agreed to meet Keller at June's, Neal was trading his life for mine."

With everything that had been going on over the past few hours, that thought had never occurred to Peter, and now the words were like a vicious punch to the gut. He hugged El tightly once again, placed a kiss on top of her head, breathed in her scent, and then whispered: "I promise you. I _will _find him."

She nodded against his chest.

WCWCWC

There were six agents with each team and, as Peter and the other five members of his team advanced on the farmhouse, Peter's gut instinct went into overdrive. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He sensed someone watching him but, more importantly, he could almost _feel_ Neal nearby. He didn't voice this to Agent Henderson, who was sitting quietly in the passenger seat, because his rational mind made it very clear to him how silly it would sound. But, silly or not, he just _knew _this was the place.

"You get the feeling we're being watched?" Henderson asked quietly.

Peter shot a look in her direction, chastising himself for doubting the woman's own instincts. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, I do."

All three cars parked a little bit of a ways from the house, wanting to keep as much of an element of surprise as was possible. Though, in this wide open space, the chances of their approach going unnoticed were slim, at best.

As soon as they stepped out of their vehicles, the firefight ensued and two good agents went down. As far as Peter could tell, there were four shooters inside the house, making both sides even. Except, the other team had the protection of the house and he and his team were like sitting ducks.

Peter and Henderson were hunkered down next to the rear bumper of his sedan, taking the only refuge they could while they analyzed the situation. "Cover me," Henderson suddenly said, and before Peter could object, she was running in a crouch across the yard to the front of the house. Peter stood and fired, drawing the shooters' attention to him. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Henderson take position beneath what used to be a windowsill garden box. One of the shooters either saw Henderson or he saw Peter's attention diverted to her, because he stood up on the other side of the window above her and raised his gun, preparing to shoot down at the unsuspecting agent. Peter raised his own gun and fired a kill shot, causing the shooter to slump over the empty garden box, his gun falling to the ground next to Henderson. She looked across at Peter with a nod of thanks. Peter responded by joining her beneath the window, firing aimlessly as he ran.

From their position next to the house, the two agents were able to see that now all remaining members of their team were down. Maybe simply injured, but most likely worse.

Peter pulled out his cell phone and dialled. "This is Agent Peter Burke. I need paramedics to my GPS location ASAP."

Apparently feeling brave, the shooters decided that they would be able to disperse of Peter and Henderson with little effort. They came out of the house showing a small amount of caution, but not nearly enough. Peter shot one, Henderson shot the other. The final shooter was smart enough to toss his weapon aside and raise his hands.

"Get on your knees," Peter yelled. "On your knees! Now!"

The shooter complied, keeping his hands in the air, all bravado gone. Henderson advanced on him. She kicked his gun further away, out of his reach, while Peter frisked him for other weapons. He found a sheathed knife attached to the man's belt, which he promptly relieved him of, slipping it onto his own belt for possible future use, if he had to cut Neal loose.

"Where is he?" Peter demanded.

Some of the guy's bravado returned and his responding smile was smug and condescending. "He's probably already dead," he taunted.

Overcome with rage, Peter grabbed the creep by the hair and yanked his head backwards so he could look down into the cold, malicious eyes. "You'd better hope he's not," he said, putting as much threat behind his words as he possibly could.

And it worked. The guy's smile disappeared. Henderson was pretty sure it was more due to the look in Peter's eyes than his words, though. "Go ahead," she told him. "Find Neal. I got this loser covered."

With a nod of thanks, Peter went back to the car at a trot. He pulled a few bottles of water out of the trunk, then grabbed a chocolate bar out of the glove compartment for good measure. Neal was going to need something to eat and drink before they could even think about transporting him to a hospital, or waiting for a medivac to arrive. Throwing all these supplies into a bag, along with a portable first aid kit, Peter turned and headed back to the house.

WCWCWC

Peter searched every inch of the farmhouse, from top to bottom, including the basement. Nothing. He came out feeling more defeated than he'd ever felt in his life.

"Agent Burke," Henderson called out to him.

He looked up in response.

"What about over there," she asked him, directing him to an area off to the left with a jut of her chin.

Peter followed her line of sight and could just barely see a set of cellar doors set into the ground at a slight angle. With newfound energy, he ran across the yard, skidding to a stop at the doors and yanking them open, revealing nothing but darkness from the depths within.

Without hesitation, Peter pulled his flashlight out of his jacket and started down the stairs. Remembering Neal's warning all those months ago that Keller treats every job like a chess game, Peter swept the flashlight across the steps and through the darkness directly ahead of him, searching for any kind of trap. Sure enough, he found a tripwire extended across the third step down. Gingerly, he stepped over the wire and continued to sweep the steps with his flashlight until he got to the bottom of the staircase. It was taking longer than he wanted but he would be of no help to Neal if he got killed during the rescue attempt.

Once he cleared the steps, he swept the flashlight across the dirt floor of the cellar. Seeing no other trip wires, or any other kind of trap, at least nothing noticeable to the naked eye, Peter finally turned his attention to the rest of the room. When the beam of the flashlight landed on Neal Caffrey's emaciated frame, Peter's heart jumped into his throat, then broke into a million pieces.

Neal's condition was so much worse than it had seemed on the webcam. In fact, Peter was sure he was too late. How could anybody look like that and still be alive. Regardless, he stepped up to the suspended form to check for a pulse, mentally preparing himself for the worst case scenario.

He choked on a sob when his searching fingers were rewarded with a pulse beneath the jawline. Weak and thready, but there. Neal's head shot up, eyes wild and unfocused.

"Hey, hey, Neal," Peter said in what he hoped would be a soothing tone. "It's me. It's Peter. You're gonna be okay, buddy."

"P'ter? You're... back... Why?"

"That wasn't me before, kiddo. Keller was messing with your head. But I'm here now, and I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?" He was already reaching up with the knife he had procured from Keller's man and began sawing at the ropes around Neal's wrists.

"You h'te me," Neal mumbled incoherently.

"No, I don't," Peter chided him, still sawing at the ropes. "Would I be cutting you loose, if I hated you?"

Neal remained silent. Whether it was because he was mulling over Peter's words or because he had lost consciousness, that was anybody's guess. For now, Peter simply concentrated on getting Neal down. As soon as the knife cut all the way through the bonds, Neal fell forward, his arms draping over Peter's shoulders, the movement eliciting a strangled cry from the younger man.

"Shhhh, it's okay, buddy. It's just the circulation returning to your arms. The pain will pass, I promise."

Dismayed at the difference in Neal's weight from when he'd had to half carry the younger man out of that 'Hearts Wide Open' clinic all those months ago and now, Peter wrapped his arms around his partner's back and focused on the heart beat against his chest, the soft breaths against his neck. He backed them both up to sit against the far wall, then began massaging the muscles in his CI's arms and shoulders. Neal sagged against his chest, his whimpers of pain fading into sharp pants.

"That better?" Peter asked softly.

"Mmmm," was the only response Neal could muster as his fight to remain conscious became more and more difficult.

WCWCWC

Unnerved by the lack of activity from the cellar, Henderson hollered, "Agent Burke!", not taking her eyes - or her weapon - off the man in front of her for even a second. When no answer emanated from the cellar, her concern increased. "Get over there," she told the prisoner, indicating the porch steps with a jut of her chin.

After securing the guy to the porch railing with a set of handcuffs, Henderson made her way over to the cellar, gun out and ready for any type of ambush, deciding once again that the element of surprise was her best option.

WCWCWC

Peter was still sitting on the floor with Neal leaned back against his chest. Neal's arms rested loosely across his stomach but continued to twitch with the all too recent memory of pain. Peter knew he had to get the kid out of there but first thing's first. He tilted the bottle of water against the younger man's lips but Neal had zero coordination and more water was getting on his chest than in his mouth. So, Peter manoeuvred him across his lap, creating a bit more of an angle, though not laying him out so much that he would choke.

Now, supporting Neal's head with the crook of his elbow, Peter tried again. He poured tiny amounts into Neal's mouth and watched with relief as the water was swallowed. He couldn't help but smile with a sad fondness when his young friend's mouth opened like that of a baby bird searching for more food. "Just a little bit at a time," Peter told him softly. "I don't want you getting sick."

"Agent Burke?"

Peter looked up as soon as he heard Henderson's voice. He saw her feet cross the threshold into the cellar and watched in horror as she charged down the steps.

"Stop! There's a trip - "

BOOM!

Instantly, Peter pulled Neal further into his lap, curling himself around him, covering his partner's body with his own.

TBC

_A/N I know, I know. Another cliffie! I just couldn't help myself! *blush* _

_A/N2 So, I'm not sure how I did with the mean 'Peter' dialogue. I don't think I write mean Peter very well. Good thing it was fake Peter. Even a better thing that he won't be coming back! LoL I kinda lost the 'trade' in this chapter somewhere. I'll try to pick it up in the next chap but, honestly, my main focus is some Peter and Neal interaction and h/c. I went two and a half chapters with no interaction whatsoever, now I'm making up for lost time! LoL_

_A/N3 If you have the time, please leave a review? But, either way, thanks so much for reading! HUGS! ~Kelcor _


	4. Explosions and Injuries

_A/N My apologies for the delay. Real life. Screenwriting. Reasons, yet not excuses. The last couple days before the new episode gave me inspiration and I woke up yesterday morning with this chapter rolling around in my brain. I hope you enjoy it. One chapter left. ~Kelcor_

**Explosions and Injuries**

Peter uncurled himself from around Neal to survey the damage. They were surrounded in black. With his ears still ringing from the concussive blast of the explosion, the seemingly impenetrable darkness was disorienting to say the least.

Knowing it was futile, Peter nonetheless called out to Henderson. "Agent Henderson?" No answer. "Vicky!" Still his answer was an all too telling silence. There was no way she could have survived that blast. She'd been right on top of it. Peter dreaded the letter he was going to have to write to her family but it was the least he could do.

The yelling startled Neal back to consciousness but, apparently, not to the here and now. "Johnny?"

This name perplexed Peter. In all his investigations concerning Caffrey, even in his probe into the younger man's past, he had never come across the name 'Johnny'. Of course, Neal could be caught in the memory of something that happened in the years before his 18th birthday, the truth of which Peter had never been able to uncover. Setting the matter aside for another time, Peter felt around until he was able to press his palm against his partner's face, hoping the contact would help solidify his words. "Neal? It's me, Peter."

"Johnny, please let me out. I promise, I'll be good."

The new context of Neal's words didn't bode well with the fact that 'Johnny' could very well be someone from Neal's childhood and this realization sent ice coursing through Peter's veins. Part of him wanted to play the scene out a bit further. But another part of him, one with a voice that sounded much like El, ironically enough, told him it would be unfair to take advantage of Neal's weakened state simply to satisfy his own curiosity, regardless of how good his intentions were.

Instead of asking questions, he tapped Caffrey's face with the pads of his fingers. "Neal? It's me. Johnny's not here. Come on back to me, kid."

There was a pause and Peter could practically hear the gears shifting inside the ex-con's head, then: "Peter?"

"Yeah, buddy. Welcome back."

"Didn't know I was gone," Neal said, his voice still rough from lack of use. He tried to sit up but collapsed back against Peter's chest.

"Easy, easy. You're still pretty weak. Just sit still for a bit."

"Why is it so dark?"

For the first time, Peter noticed the shivers coursing through his friend's body. "Agent Henderson set off a booby trap Keller left for me. The explosion sealed off our only exit."

Neal's shivering intensified exponentially. "You mean... we're trapped?"

"For now, yeah. But - " Before Peter could finish his statement, Neal was struggling fiercely to sit up. Peter placed his hands on the younger man's shoulders, doing his best to prevent further movement. "Whoa! Neal, what are you doing?"

"Gotta get out, gotta get out, gotta get out - "

"I told you, there is no way out. But I put in a call for help before coming down here, so I'm sure Hughes has sent backup. They should be here anytime now."

Neal continued to struggle, as if not hearing the agent's words at all. Worried that Neal was going to injure himself further, Peter wrapped him in a bear hug, pinning his arms in a criss cross pattern across his chest. Neal bucked and squirmed against the hold, causing Peter to fear that he may be doing more harm than good by restraining him like this. Finally, Neal seemed to expend the last of his energy and became almost dead weight in the agent's arms. He was breathing heavily, still in full-on panic mode, but too tired to fight any longer.

Keeping one arm wrapped around Neal's chest, Peter placed his other hand on top of his partner's head, much like he had done at the Hearts Wide Open clinic what seemed like a lifetime ago. "Just relax, kid. I'm sure Diana and Jones will be here soon. They'll get us out. I promise."

"Don't like the dark," Neal whispered, trying desperately to sound normal, even nonchalant, but unable to completely conceal the tiny shake to his voice.

Feeling a little out of his league, and wishing desperately that El was there for this part, Peter gave Neal an awkward one-armed hug.

"Did you just... hug... me?" Neal asked with a weak chuckle, needing to take a breath every couple of words. "You? The man who... describes himself as... 'emotionally... unavailable'?"

"No," Peter insisted, feeling his cheeks heat up in the darkness. "I was just stretching out a kink in my arm."

"Uh-huh," Neal responded, his disbelief clear. Suddenly, his muscles tensed, seemingly all at once.

"Neal? You okay?"

No sooner were the words out of Peter's mouth, and Neal was convulsing against him. Knowing that he shouldn't restrain a convulsing patient, but also all too aware of the various items protruding out of the dirt just waiting to cause more harm to his friend, Peter captured Neal in a two-armed grip once again and held on until the convulsion ended.

WCWCWCWC

Mozzie watched as Jones aimed his gun steadily at Keller, while Diana slapped the cuffs on him with a very satisfying clank of metal. Mozzie had missed the first time this had happened on the helipad, and was more than happy to be the proud witness this time. _"__Good riddance, dirt bag!"_ he thought to himself, saying just as much and more with his eyes as he glared at the scum who had kidnapped and tortured his best friend.

With the sting now complete, the FBI would confiscate Mozzie's treasure, and most likely arrest him in the process, but it was all worth it just to see Keller carted off like the trash he'd always been. Now all they had to do was find Neal safe and sound, and everything would be alright in Mozzie's world. Whether that world ended up being spent behind bars or not. Granted, he would definitely be more in favour of the 'not' version of that scenario but as long as Neal was safe, he could deal with the alternative, should the need arise.

As Diana stuffed Keller into the backseat of a nearby patrol car, a small stir of excitement began to ripple through the surrounding FBI agents and uniformed officers alike. Mozzie sidled up to Jones and whispered, "What's going on?"

In response, Jones smiled down at him and said, "It sounds like Peter found Neal."

"Really? I mean, are you sure?" Mozzie prodded, barely reigning in an undeniable excitement of his own.

"No," Jones admitted. "But he called for an ambulance to the location he and Henderson were going to check out. So, he must have found something. We're hoping it's Neal."

"It could also be that there was an altercation of some sort and there were casualties."

"Can you just be optimistic for two seconds," Diana interjected, climbing in behind the wheel of her unmarked sedan.

"Sorry," Mozzie muttered, having the good grace to be chagrined.

"Well, are you coming or not?" she asked him, a mock glare colouring her pretty features.

Mozzie looked up in time to see Jones slipping into the front passenger seat and wasted no time hopping in the backseat. "Coming," he declared.

But his response was drowned out by Diana gunning the engine and squealing the tires in her haste to get to her boss and - though she would never admit her concern to anyone, even under torture - Neal Caffrey.

WCWCWCWC

While Neal was still unconscious, Peter became aware of his partner's temperature rising to an almost alarming level. Peter was no doctor, of course, but he knew when a fever was high enough to warrant an emergency trip to the hospital and this was fast becoming cause for concern. He tried to ease out from under Neal to search for a water bottle with the intent to at least keep the younger man hydrated, when Neal grabbed his wrist in an iron grip, a strength Peter would not have guessed possible given the ex-con's current condition.

"It's okay, Neal. I'm just going to try to find some water for you, try to bring down this fever of yours. Okay?"

"Don' go."

The whimpered reply pulled at Peter's heart strings and led him to retake his position behind Neal and adjust his friend into a more comfortable position on his side, lessening the pressure to the wounds on his back - and mentally chastising himself for not thinking of that sooner. He absently carded one hand through Neal's hair, leaving it tangled in the unusually disheveled locks while using his other hand to dig into nearby piles of dirt and debris with the hopes of finding the aforementioned bottle of water.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long for him to find, not only the water, but also the missing flashlight. He turned the flash on and, after confirming his earlier intuition that they were in fact trapped in this cellar, he gazed at the ex-con's flushed cheeks with growing concern. Keeping his arm across Neal's shoulders, careful to put as little pressure as possible on the tender flesh of his recently tortured back, Peter eased his partner away from his chest and tilted the bottle back against the parched lips. Even barely conscious, Neal drank greedily from the bottle, his body instinctively knowing what it needed to survive.

Peter felt bad pulling the bottle away from his clearly thirsty friend, but the last thing they needed right now was Neal vomiting in their tiny enclosed temporary hide-out. The fact that there was very little in the younger man's stomach would only make matters worse, not to mention more painful for Neal. So, tiny sips was the best way to go.

A few minutes later, the shivers set in again. Neal was almost shaking right out of Peter's arms, so the agent held him closer, continuing to be careful of the wounds on his back. His concern heightened when Neal started calling out for his mother, begging Johnny not to hurt her... then begging her for forgiveness? Another nugget of information Peter filed away for future conversation with his CI.

Just when he started getting used to the odd but distinct comfort provided by the flashlight, the bulb started to flicker. The battery was dying. Perfect.

Peter felt Neal's cheeks and forehead. His fever had already risen drastically from only moments before. Seemingly out of options, Peter raised his eyes to the fractured ceiling of the cellar, his gaze reaching past those broken beams in search of a higher power he was no longer certain even existed. "I'm not asking for smiting and lightning here, but a little rescue would be nice. Please?" he paused, not sure how to proceed. Then: "Uh... Amen...?"

WCWCWCWC

They were standing outside the farmhouse. Jones was searching inside, while Diana attempted to scare a confession out of the only living person the EMT's were able to find on the property. He had been handcuffed to the porch railing when they arrived, so, Mozzie was willing to wager that he was probably one of the bad guys. One of Keller's men. Apparently, Diana was betting the same, if her blazing eyes and clenched fists were anything to go by. Mozzie could see a spark of fear in the prisoner's eyes, so the guy clearly had at least one brain cell going for him. Regardless, Mozzie feared he still would not tell them where Peter, Neal and Henderson were... not in time, anyway.

Unable to watch Diana put the fear of God into this man any longer, Mozzie turned in a circle, searching the vast open area surrounding the house, hoping to see something, anything that might lead him to his friends. His gaze moved past Jones' furtive movement inside the house, trailed over the EMT's waiting anxiously for something to do, then settled on the field of grass that seemed to go on for miles. That's when he saw it. It wasn't huge, so he couldn't be absolutely sure but... he took a few steps toward it, then a few more. Before he knew it, he was running across the field. "Over here!" he hollered over his shoulder, not even looking to see if Diana and Jones were following him, let alone the EMT's.

Only a few feet away now, was an area where the ground had caved in. The mound of dirt surrounding it was minimal, so most of whatever had been there had gone down. A booby trap. That was definitely something right up Keller's alley. Without thinking, Mozzie dropped to his knees and started digging with his bare hands. Soon, Diana and Jones joined in, then more pairs of hands that Mozzie could only guess belonged to the paramedics who were probably just happy to be doing something.

They weren't the only ones.

"Boss!" Diana called out. "Boss, can you hear me?"

A faint voice seemed to rise up out of the ground and grip each of them around the heart. "I hear you. I'm okay but... Neal needs to get to a hospital. Fast!"

The three sets of hands started digging with even more urgency. "An ambulance is already here and waiting. We're gonna get you out. Just _hang on!" _

_TBC_

_A/N I just checked the stats for this story. I had no idea there were so many alerts placed on it. Now I feel even MORE guilty for making you all wait so long! _I can only hope this was worth the wait. I'll do my best to get the next chapter up asap. Love you all! Thank you SO MUCH for your patience! ~Kelcor__


	5. Comfort Zone

_A/N Okay, this is easily the longest chapter I've written. Ever. My apologies for the huge delay. I tried many drafts of this and this is the first one that I feel comfortable posting. I hope it lives up to your expectations (?). If there are any typos, etc. please feel free to send me a PM. That being said, t_his story is finally complete! Yayyy! _Any and all reviews are loved and appreciated more than you could possibly realize! :o) ~Kelcor_

_A/N2 Now officially A/U. LoL_

**Chapter Five - Comfort Zone**

...TWO WEEKS LATER...

As Peter pulled into his driveway, he tried his best to ignore the knot in his stomach that had grown larger and larger as the day had worn on, and had escalated to astronomical proportions as soon as he had dropped his all-too-quiet CI off at his home less than half an hour ago. In fact, Neal had been more than quiet. He'd been downright taciturn.

Not wanting to concern El, the FBI agent turned the car off but remained seated behind the wheel of his sedan as he pondered the situation. For Neal's first day back on the job since the Keller fiasco, Peter had picked an especially cryptic art heist out of the pile of white collar cases awaiting investigation, thinking the mystery would intrigue his partner and friend.

Before he could ruminate any further, a knock on his window drew Peter back to the present. He looked up and saw El standing next to his door, hands placed firmly on her hips, an unmistakeable fire in her eyes. Without waiting for a response to her unspoken question, she strode around the car and climbed into the passenger seat that Neal had recently vacated.

"I could hear you thinking from the kitchen," she stated, tone clipped but concerned. "What's wrong?"

Knowing full well that it was useless to try to lie to her, and not wanting to anyway, Peter immediately opened up. "It's Neal."

"What about him?" she asked, her lack of surprise clear. She laughed at his raised eyebrows and slack jaw. "Hon, the only time you think _that_ loudly is when you're worried about Neal. So? Out with it, already." Her words were stern but her eyes were filled with empathy, sympathy, and an acute concern of her own.

"I picked a clever art heist case for Neal's first day back."

"That was sweet of you. Did it work?"

"Nope. The shell he's currently living in is still whole and intact."

"Are you really all that surprised?"

Peter sighed with resignation. "No, I guess not. But I had hoped to at least put a small crack in the facade."

"Honey, this is Neal we're talking about here. Keeping up facades is his specialty." She paused, wondering if her next statement would only serve to worry her husband even more, then decided that Neal _needed_ Peter to be worried about him. Because Peter was probably the only person that would be able to get through to him.

"Now, who's thinking loud enough to be her own concerto? What aren't you telling me, El?"

"Mozzie joined me for lunch today."

This piqued Peter's attention. "And? Did he say something about Neal?"

"Just that he's not sleeping and barely eating."

"I'm not surprised. The dark circles under his eyes and his obvious weight loss told me the same thing but he keeps insisting that he's fine."

"June is concerned for him, too."

"Well, Neal is certainly not lacking in the 'having people who care about him' department."

"If only that were enough," was El's solemn reply.

"I know," Peter agreed, fists clenching around the steering wheel. "I just wish I knew how to reach him. I feel like he's falling apart at the seams and there's nothing I can do about it."

"You can be his friend," El said gently.

"Isn't that what I _am_ doing?"

Upon seeing the look of hurt in her husband's eyes, El reached out and cupped the side of his face with one hand. "Of course you are, honey. But, right now, you're also being his partner, his mentor, when what he really needs is for you to be his friend. Whether you and Neal want to admit it or not, you've been a father figure to him for close to two years." Peter opened his mouth to protest but she shushed him with just a look from her fiery blue eyes. "And you have loved him like a son. I know you better than you know yourself, so don't even try to deny it, Peter Burke."

"Fine," he said, which was as close as he was willing to come to admitting the truth in her words. "What do I do, then?"

"You force him to open up to you about what happened. You force him to tell you who this 'Johnny' person is or was. And, most importantly, you do _not_ use the words 'cowboy up'."

"El, Neal is a grown man. I can't make him do something he doesn't want to do."

"I think, he wants to open up to you, Peter. He's just afraid to."

"Afraid. Of what?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's afraid of showing any kind of vulnerability. Maybe..." she paused, staring out the windshield as a thought occurred to her.

"Maybe what?" Peter prodded.

El turned to face him, her expression one of sudden realization. "Maybe he's afraid of what you'd think of him if you knew the truth."

"What truth? About his _alleged _crimes? I already know about most of those."

"I'm pretty sure it goes deeper than that, further back. And, I think, this Johnny person is the key to everything."

After a moment, Peter finally relented. "Okay. I'll pick him up a few minutes early Monday morning, take him out for coffee and talk to him." El simply regarded him with one raised eyebrow, apparently waiting for 'Plan B' to be put on the table. "I'll go talk to him tomorrow?" El shook her head, eyebrow still firmly in place about mid-forehead. "Now?" His wife smiled at him. "Aw, come on, El. It's been a long day and I haven't even eaten yet," Peter whined.

El reached over and turned the key in the ignition. "We'll pick something up on the way," she told him over the sound of the engine.

"Fine," Peter grumbled. "But I'm getting a 6-pack of beer, too. I'm not in the mood for wine tonight."

"Coulda' fooled me," El teased.

He scowled at her as he pulled the car back out onto the street, a look that only elicited another laugh from the beautiful woman he had been smart enough to marry.

Peter fought the smirk that threatened to wipe the frown of his face but, with El still giggling in the seat next to him, he knew it was a lost cause.

WCWCWCWC

Half an hour later, Peter pulled his sedan up to the curb in front of June's house. He stepped out onto the sidewalk and gazed up at the top floor, wondering what in the world he was going to say to his CI and more than a little thankful that El was going to be there to help. Best to leave all the touchy-feely stuff to her, after all.

He watched as the beautiful brunette in question rounded the car and came up to stand at his side. "He won't be able to hear you from here," she told him. Then she handed him the large pizza and six-pack of beer, smacked him on the butt and said, "Now, get upstairs and bring the old Neal back to us."

Peter turned, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline as El kissed him on the cheek and snatched the keys out of his hand. "You're not coming up with me?" he asked.

El slid behind the wheel of the sedan. "Nope." She said simply, laughing at the utter horror on her husband's face. "Honey, you'll be fine. Just remember, don't say - "

"Cowboy up," Peter supplied.

"See? You're already halfway there," she smiled, turning the engine on once again. "This conversation is going to take more than an hour or two. I'll come by to pick you up in the morning."

"No, El, wait - " the agent began but it was too late, his wife had already ridden off into the sunset, essentially abandoning him well outside of his comfort zone.

WCWCWC

Instead of the maid opening the door to let him in, it was June herself. The expression on her face spoke volumes about her concern for the ex-con living upstairs. "Oh, Peter, thank goodness you're here. He's getting more and more withdrawn with each passing day."

Seeing the tears in her eyes, and desperately wanting to stop them from falling, Peter gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and offered up his most encouraging smile, reserved for the most fearful witnesses and victims. "I'll talk to him," he said softly.

June smiled and was able to keep the tears at bay. Mission accomplished.

As he started up the stairs, however, June's hand on his arm brought him to a halt. He turned to face her and was startled to have a prescription pill bottle held out to him. Sleeping pills. "The maid found these in his trash a few days ago. When I asked him about it, he said only that he doesn't need them and politely excused himself to return to his room."

"Maybe he doesn't need them."

The look June gave him reminded Peter of El, complete with hands on hips. No words were needed from the older woman for Peter to know what she was thinking.

"Okay, okay. You're right. He definitely needs them. But I can't very well force them down his throat."

"Normally, I would agree with you but Neal will collapse if he doesn't soon get some sleep. Besides, deep down, Neal knows he needs them. He just doesn't _want_ to need them. His head is too muddled to think straight right now, anyway." At Peter's continued hesitation. "In this case, Peter, I believe the ends do indeed justify the means. Wouldn't you agree?" Then, without waiting for a response, June turned on her heel and made her way to the sitting room. "Just don't mix it with wine," she tossed over her shoulder. "He keeps a bottle of orange juice in his fridge."

Still unsure of what to do with the pills, Peter nonetheless slipped the bottle into his pocket and continued up the stairs to Neal's apartment. He knocked on the door but go no response. His anxiety amping up a notch, he knocked again. This time the door opened.

"June, I appreciate your concern but I - " Neal cut himself off as soon as he saw Peter standing on the other side of the threshold. "Peter? What are you - ?"

Before the young CI could finish the question, Peter pushed his way into the apartment, balancing the large pizza on one arm, carrying the case of beer in his other hand. "Hey, Neal. Got any room in the fridge for this beer. Because I really hate warm beer."

Neal leaned against the door, refusing to close it just yet. "Peter, what are you doing here," he asked on a sigh.

"Thought you could use some company," the agent told him, sliding the 6-pack onto the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. Before closing the door, he took note of the multiple cans of Red Bull and other energy drinks filling the other shelves. In his mind's eye, Peter remembered the bouncing knee during regular conversation, the fingertips tapping relentlessly on the desk, eyes unable to remain focused on any one thing for more than a few seconds at a time. It was all beginning to make sense now. Neal was afraid to sleep. Peter couldn't blame him, of course. What with all that happened a couple weeks ago. But the kid needed to sleep.

Suddenly, the pill bottle in his pocket seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. He knew June only had the younger man's best interests at heart, but still he was loathe to drug his friend without his knowledge. Not wanting to go that route just yet, the FBI agent closed the fridge and moved over to the table with the pizza. "How about some pizza. From the looks of you, you need to eat something."

"I need to be alone," was the whispered reply that sounded very much like a plea.

"Sorry, that's just not an option," Peter told him, holding out a slice of pizza.

Neal gave the older man a look of betrayal before averting his eyes and finally closing the door, indicating that he wasn't going to kick his friend out. Not yet, anyway. He accepted the slice but didn't take a bite right away.

"El made me promise to spend some time with you."

"And?" Neal prompted, knowing Peter too well to believe that that was the only reason for his being here.

"And... she kind of high-jacked my car," the agent reluctantly admitted.

The ex-con couldn't help but snicker at that. "She is very good at getting her way."

"That she is," Peter agreed wholeheartedly.

"When is she coming back to pick you up? A couple hours?" Neal asked, taking a small bite of his pizza.

"Try breakfast time."

Neal almost choked on his pizza, his eyes wide with disbelief and something akin to panic. "She wants you to spend the night? Here?"

"Apparently," Peter replied, scrutinizing his CI, trying to zero in on the reason for the growing panic in his eyes. "So, I was thinking I'd just crash on your couch."

"No," Neal said curtly, opening the door once again. "I'm sure June has an extra room for you to stay in for the night."

Deciding to treat this the same way he would any other time his CI was clearly trying to get rid of him, Peter plopped himself down on the sofa, pizza and beer in hand. "No can do, my friend. A promise to El is treated as a sacred vow, it cannot be broken without fear for one's life." Okay, so, he hadn't actually said the words 'I promise' but Neal didn't need to know that.

"Peter," Neal said, the plea back in his tone full force.

Pretending to ignore him, Peter snatched the remote off the coffee table and flicked on the television, settling back into the cushions to make it clear that he wasn't going anywhere. "Oh, look!" he exclaimed with feigned excitement. "I love this movie!" After a moment, he heard the resigned sigh as Neal realized he was out of options. The door closed with a soft thud and Neal eased himself down on the sofa, being sure to sit at the opposite end, as far away from Peter as possible.

"The Back-Up Plan?" Neal asked, disbelief clear in his voice. "That's your favourite movie?"

"You bet," Peter said.

"You do realize Jennifer Lopez stars in this movie, right?"

Peter nodded awkwardly, knowing full well that Jennifer Lopez movies were the exact genre that he tried to avoid at all costs, save for the times that El wanted to curl up and watch with him. "I love me some J-Lo," he intoned, trying - and failing - to sound enthusiastic.

Neal was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, in full sulk mode, but even his current mood couldn't stop the smirk from playing on his lips at hearing those words spill out of Peter's mouth.

Peter didn't fail to notice Neal's knee start to bounce, or his fingertips tapping against his arm. However, now was not the time to call attention to those issues. One step at a time. He just prayed a romantic-comedy would do the trick and put his friend to sleep. An amateur tactic, he knew, but he had to try something before resorting to June's idea.

Realizing that his CI was watching him, intent on catching him in his lie, Peter forced himself to watch the movie playing on the screen in front of him. All through the crazy antics of J-Lo's pregnant character, the agent found himself going back and forth in an internal debate as to whether or not he and El should revisit their plan to wait a couple years before having children. Near the end, Jennifer Lopez' character was simultaneously giving birth, promising to get past her trust issues and confessing her undying love to a male lead Peter was confident would have El drooling - a realization that prompted him to decide that this was one movie he would try to keep away from his wonderful wife.

When he heard a soft snore next to him, Peter turned and found Neal curled into the sofa, fast asleep. His arms were still crossed in front of him but he appeared peaceful instead of sulking and tense.

Surprised that his mission had been accomplished so easily, the agent quietly stepped over to Neal's bed to grab a blanket. As he draped it over the ex-con, he noticed him start twitching in his sleep. As the younger man became increasingly distressed, Peter began to think it might be best to wake him, regardless of his previous lack of sleep. Before he could do anything, however, Neal jolted awake with a cry, unknowingly lunging directly into Peter's arms.

Having never been a father, or even a big brother, the FBI agent had never found himself in a situation like this before and he had absolutely no idea how to proceed. Then the decision was made for him as Neal seemingly recovered his senses and pulled away, his cheeks tinged with pink.

"Sorry," the ex-con mumbled.

"'s okay," Peter responded, feeling equally awkward as he sat back on the sofa. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

Not another word was spoken as the two sat in an uncomfortable silence until the credits finished rolling and a new movie started.

Apparently, whatever channel the television was tuned to was having a J-Lo marathon because another one of her movies graced the screen. _Enough._ It became clear that this was not the stereotypical J-Lo movie when her seemingly perfect husband - an actor Peter fondly remembered as _The Rocketeer_ - punched his wife in the face. This stunned Peter into watching with renewed interest, which kept him from seeing his CI's escalating agitation.

When Neal suddenly shot to his feet, Peter watched slack-jawed as the ex-con bolted for the bathroom. The agent's eyes moved from the scene on the television in which the husband was beating J-Lo's character to a pulp, to the recently slammed bathroom door, then back to the television. An acute understanding filled Peter with an all-encompassing dread as he turned off the TV and made his way over to the bathroom. The sounds of retching coming from the other side of the door both confirmed his dread and broke his heart.

Hearing the toilet flush, Peter stepped away from the door and was standing next to the kitchen table when a very pale Neal returned to the room, avoiding any and all eye contact with the concerned FBI agent.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Not really," Neal said nonchalantly, moving to the balcony doors and staring out at the New York skyline.

"Okay, allow me to rephrase. What was that all about?"

"A touch of the flu, I guess," Neal said over his shoulder.

"After everything that happened with Keller, after everything that happened in the _cellar_, you really expect me to believe that little episode was caused by a 'touch of the flu'?"

"I don't really care what you believe, Peter," Neal advised in a weary but shaky voice. "Please, just... leave."

"We've already been over this. I'm not leaving you alone, Neal."

"Please, Peter, I can't sleep with you here."

"Evidently, you can't sleep with me _not_ here, either. Have you looked in the mirror lately, Neal? Because you look like crap, kid."

Neal spun around, apparently about to argue. Instead, he stumbled. One hand went to his forehead, the other reached out for the table which was too far away. Peter shot forward and caught his friend before he hit the floor. His arms once again wrapped around the ex-con, Peter looked down at the too-pale face mashed up against his chest. He waited a moment for Neal to get back his equilibrium, then asked, "You good?"

"Yeah," Neal mumbled, pushing himself away from Peter's encircling arms.

"Easy, easy," the agent said. Not willing to relinquish his hold completely, Peter kept one arm around his CI's back and gripped his elbow with his free hand as he led him back over to the sofa and sat him down. "You okay," he asked.

"Just got a little dizzy for a minute there," Neal admitted.

Decision made, albeit with a guilty conscience, Peter made his way over to the kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Neal wasn't watching, then crushed one of the pills and poured the powder into a full glass of orange juice. As he returned to the sofa and Neal, Peter mentally told himself over and over again '_this is the right thing to do, this is the right thing to do, this is the right thing to do...'. _Out loud, he said, "Here, drink this. You're probably dehydrated."

Neal accepted the glass and gulped it down. Meanwhile, Peter's heart pounded with apprehension and guilt.

WCWCWCWC

With all the energy drinks in his system, it took a while for the drug to take effect but Neal eventually began to fade. He looked at the glass the orange juice had been in. After a few attempts, he had the item in his hand and was peering at the powdery residue on the sides and near the rim. He gave Peter a groggy yet accusatory glare. "Wha'd y'do t'me?"

"You have to sleep, Neal," Peter said by way of explanation.

"You... you dr'gged... me?"

Before he was out completely, Peter pulled him to his feet and helped him over to the bed. "Come on, kiddo. Time for bed. How long has it been since you slept, anyway?"

Neal was having a hard time deciphering all the words but once he saw where Peter was leading him, he began to panic. "No... please, P'ter... can't sleep... please... don'... make me..."

His words were slurred and his struggles were weak, yet they still broke Peter's heart into tiny pieces. As soon as he sat Neal down on the bed, he framed the younger man's face in his palms, forcing true eye contact for the first time in days. "I will be here the entire time. I promise."

Neal was still unsure and his eyes filled with tears which, due to years of practice, refused to fall even given his current state.

"Do you trust me, Neal?"

The younger man nodded, the movement causing one tear to escape. Peter wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

"Then, please, get some sleep. I won't let anything happen to you," he told him, then added once again, "I promise." He helped Neal lay down against the pillows and lifted his legs onto the bed.

Peter grabbed a chair and set it close to the bed. As he sat down, he watched Neal sleep and was overcome by a very unfamiliar feeling. He realized he truly wouldn't let anything happen to Neal. Not just today. Ever. Maybe El was right. Maybe he did look at Neal as the son they'd never had. Apparently, they hadn't waited to have children, after all. He laughed softly at that thought as he settled into the chair for the night.

It wasn't long before the nightmares started.

WCWCWCWC

Peter was dozing in a chair next to the bed when an odd sound yanked him back to consciousness. He sat up straight, hand automatically reaching for his gun, before realizing the sound originated from a still sleeping Neal, thrashing beneath the covers. He was murmuring in his sleep... begging to be 'let out', pleading for forgiveness. The terror in the younger man's voice was what truly got Peter's attention, though. It was like they were back in that cellar, living through that horror all over again. Deciding it would be best to wake Neal, pull him from the nightmare, and then let him go back to sleep, Peter reached out and shook his partner's shoulder.

Nothing.

"Neal?" Peter tried again, shaking him harder this time. "Wake up, kiddo!"

Nothing.

The FBI agent began pacing back and forth across the small bedroom area of the apartment, not wanting to stray too far from Neal but needing to think. He hadn't thought this plan through well enough. It hadn't occurred to him that the sleeping pill would literally _lock_ Neal in his nightmare. He pushed his hands through his hair in frustration, bit back the curse words that were itching to be released. Losing his cool wasn't going to do Neal any good.

Peter pulled out his cell phone. He was about to speed-dial El when he noticed the time on the display. El would be in bed by now, most likely fast asleep. Peter didn't want to wake her unless it was absolutely necessary. No. He could do this.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket, then stared at Neal for a long moment. He knew what had helped in the cellar, but that had been a "desperate times" scenario - Neal badly injured, Peter overcome with joy and relief at finding him.

On second thought...

Biting the bullet, Peter pulled his cell phone out again and called his wife, not giving himself a chance to change his mind once again. El answered on the first ring.

"Hey, hon," she said, not sounding the least bit groggy. Apparently, she'd been expecting his call.

Man, he loved his wife.

"Hey, hon."

"How's he doing?"

"He's asleep," he told her, deciding to give the good news first.

"Really? How in the world did you manage that?"

Peter winced. "I slipped him a mickey."

"You did what?" El laughed. "Isn't that illegal?"

"Only if it's done for nefarious purposes."

"Ah, I see," she said, still chuckling. "Fine line you're walking there, Agent Burke." After a moment she sobered, however, sensing all was not well with her husband and his young CI. "So, what's wrong, then?"

"Why would you think something's wrong?"

"You called me at two in the morning to chat?"

"Good point," Peter sighed. "He's having a nightmare and I can't wake him up."

"Because you drugged him," El added unnecessarily.

"He was hopped up on energy drinks, yet so exhausted he looked ready to collapse."

"Honey, calm down. I'm not judging you."

"I know you're not," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "What do I do?"

"Let him know you're there."

"Did I mention the part about him being in such a deep sleep that I can't wake him up?"

"I'm sorry, would you like to handle this on your own?"

"No, no," Peter exclaimed desperately. "I'm sorry, hon. I guess I'm just panicking a bit here."

"Apology accepted."

"So, you'll come over, then?"

"No."

"El, please."

"You can do this, honey. You just need to push through that emotional barrier that you have up to guard against everyone but me and be there for him."

Peter all but collapsed back into his chair, eyeing Neal still thrashing beneath the covers, mumbling pleas for release. "Okay. How do I let him know I'm here?"

"I don't know. Talk to him?"

"Tried that already. He's not hearing me."

"Hold his hand, then."

"What? El, we are men, we don't hold hands."

"You'd rather watch Neal endure his agony alone?"

"No," Peter muttered, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to step out of his comfort zone. "Fine."

El's smile was big enough to be heard through the phone. "Good boy," she teased. "But tomorrow you need to get him to talk about whatever's bothering him."

"El - " Peter began in protest.

"Or, you could just hold his hand every night while he's sleeping from now until the end of time," she added coyly.

"Okay, okay. Just call me Dr. Phil."

"Is it safe for me to go to sleep now, Dr. Phil?"

"Yeah," he said reluctantly. "Yeah, I got this."

"Okay. Goodnight, hon."

"'night, hon."

Peter ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He hesitated, then grabbed one thrashing arm and gripped Neal's hand in his own, as if about to start an arm wrestling competition. To Peter's surprise, the thrashing stopped almost immediately... but not the begging.

"Come on, Neal. It's okay. I'm right here. You're just stuck in a nightmare."

After several moments, Neal finally quieted. Turned out El was as brilliant as Peter had always believed. He made a move to release his CI's hand but then thought better of it, fearing the nightmares would return.

WCWCWC

A few hours later, Peter woke with his head resting on Neal's forearm. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes with one hand before seeing that his CI was giving him an odd look. "What?"

Neal didn't say anything, he simply looked down at their interlocked hands.

Peter blushed and pulled his hand away as if stung. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, intending to let go of Neal's hand long before the younger man woke up. "It was El's idea," he defended.

"El wanted you to hold my hand?"

"Yes." At Neal's increased confusion, the agent elaborated. "You were having a nightmare and I couldn't wake you up. She figured it would be the best way to let you know that I was here, that you weren't alone."

This time it was Neal's turn to blush, though, judging by the look in his eyes it was due to equal parts embarrassment and anger as his memory drifted back to the previous night's events. "I can't believe you drugged me, Peter. I thought I could trust you."

"You can trust me, Neal. You can trust me to do what's best for you, even if you don't know what that is. _Especially_ if you don't know what that is."

"I think it's time for you to leave," Neal told him as he threw back the covers and got out of bed.

"No, not until you tell me what's going on with you! What was that nightmare about?"

The ex-con ignored him, making a bee-line for the kitchen.

"Look, Neal, if you're still dreaming about your time with Keller, you need to talk about it. No one is going to judge you."

Opening the refrigerator, Neal said, "It's not about Keller. Not directly, anyway."

"Then, what is it?" Peter hesitated, not sure if he should keep moving along this path but knowing that El was right - Neal needed to talk. "Was the nightmare about Johnny?"

Neal froze mid-movement, energy drink in hand, fridge door still open. "How do you know that name?" he whispered.

"You mentioned him in the cellar," Peter advised, stepping closer. "Then you said his name again last night."

"He's nobody," the young CI insisted, closing the fridge and leaving the kitchen, all the while keeping his back to Peter.

"Neal," the agent pressed, "you kept begging him to let you out." He grabbed Neal by the arm, spun him around so they were face to face, and snatched the drink out of his hand. "Is it because I'm an FBI agent? Because I can give you another free pass for anything you tell me. As long as it's not murder, of course," he added, meaning it as a joke. His concern escalated when Neal didn't respond the way he'd expected him to.

"No, it's not that," Neal told him solemnly. "I was a minor when it happened."

"When what happened?" When Neal failed to respond, Peter continued, "You told me last night that you trust me, and, current events notwithstanding, you still can. Just _talk_ to me."

As soon as Neal saw the concern in Peter's eyes, he visibly deflated. He lowered his gaze for a moment, eyes focused on the hand still holding his arm in a vise-like grip. He made eye contact with his friend once again. "Fine," he said. "But it's a long story and I'm still a little groggy from the happy pill you gave me last night," he added. He was no longer angry about it but wasn't willing to completely let it go, either.

"Okay," Peter replied, waiting for Neal to elaborate.

"Coffee doesn't work anymore. So, I'm going to need that drink back," the ex-con said with a hint of a smile. "Unless, you're looking forward to holding hands again."

Peter grimaced despite himself. "Ha ha. Here, take it," he said, thrusting the small can to his friend. "But just one. Then you're going back to bed."

"Yes, dad," Neal joked, having no idea what thoughts had been going through the FBI agent's mind just hours previous.

A few minutes later, after gulping down the energy drink, the two friends sat down at the table and Neal began his story.

"I guess, the first thing you should know is... Neal Caffrey isn't my real name."

"I beg your pardon?"

Neal offered up a slight smile. "Maybe I should save that story for another day."

The FBI agent in Peter wanted to protest but the friend knew that there were more important things to be discussed right now. He did however file that little tidbit of knowledge away for another time. "Okay, so, you've given me the teaser for the sequel as a clever stall tactic. Now, let's hear the first story."

"Remember when I told you that my dad was a dirty cop?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that wasn't entirely true."

"Big surprise," Peter said.

"He was a cop," the CI continued. "But he didn't go to jail because of tampering with evidence, or anything like that."

"Go on."

Neal took a deep breath in an attempt to fortify himself for the memories that were sure to bombard him in the retelling of his traumatic childhood. "I was about ten when my dad's hours got cut due to budget cuts at the NYPD. Shortly after that, mom got pregnant. We had already been just barely scraping by but mom was thrilled that she was going to have another baby. Dad just got more and more stressed about money, and turned to the bottle. Got drunk near every night. Then Jenny was born. I was a big brother," Neal added with a sad smile. "One day, mom went out for baby formula. Jenny hated it when mom wasn't around. She started crying. I tried to calm her down but she just wouldn't stop crying. Dad came in and..."

Peter watched as Neal rose from his seat and began pacing back and forth across the room. "Neal - "

But the CI acted as if he hadn't even heard Peter speak, and maybe he hadn't. Either way, he continued. "Dad picked her up out of her crib and tried to console her. He started out rocking her, then bouncing her up and down. Nothing worked. He was getting more and more upset. I tried to take her from him, telling him that I'd take her outside for a bit, but he shoved me back and I fell to the floor. All I could do was watch as he... he shook her... yelling at her to shut up..."

Peter closed his eyes, mortified at what ten-year-old Neal must have felt having to witness something like that. He forced them open when Neal began speaking again. He owed the kid that much.

"I had to testify at his trial. He went to prison. I can't remember for how long. He could even be out by now. Who knows? Anyway," he went on, "mom was devastated at losing both Jenny and dad on the same day. She got a job tending bar at a strip club, then ended up turning to alcohol and drugs to forget the pain. Somewhere along the line, she felt that I needed a male role model in my life."

"Johnny," Peter guessed.

"Yeah. Johnny." Neal sat down again, this time on the sofa. When he started again, his voice was oddly without emotion as he tried desperately to remain calm. "Johnny didn't like kids much. Didn't want to have to deal with me. One time when mom was at work, I was eating supper and spilled my milk. It spread across the table and onto the floor. I was cleaning it up when Johnny got back from the liquor store. He freaked out and shoved me into the basement and shut the door. There was no lock, so he braced the door shut with a chair under the knob. I pounded on the door, begged him to let me out."

"Dear God."

"I kept pounding on the door, kept yelling, until finally he came back and yanked me back out into the kitchen. I thought the punishment was over, that he was going let me just go to bed. Instead, he beat me to a pulp, then tossed me back into the basement and shut the door again. The only light coming in was through the crack beneath the door. I sat on that top step until dawn and drank in that light like it was a little piece of heaven. Actually, I think maybe it was."

"What did your mom do when she got home?" Peter asked, the younger man's lack of emotion really starting to concern him.

"Johnny let me out ten minutes before she was due to get home. He explained the bruises and cuts away by telling her I had gotten into a fight at school the day before. And, honestly, she was too blitzed out of her mind to know otherwise. Anyway, she worked every night, so the little excursions down into the basement became a regular thing."

"What about the police?"

"I went to them once, and they tried to help - after all, my dad was one of their own. But their hands were tied by the system. Social workers suggested my mom stop seeing Johnny but without hard evidence, they couldn't really do anything either. My mom tried to break it off in one of her lucid moments but then Johnny started beating on her, too. She was too scared to leave him. We eventually went before a family court judge but Johnny wore a sharp suit and was on his best behaviour. The judge didn't really believe his act but her hands were tied, too. That day, Johnny beat me so bad, I ended up in the hospital. I guess that's what gave mom the courage to kick him out. Gave the cops the right to arrest him, too. Mom and I left town. We both took on a different last name but she didn't want me to have to start going by a different first name, too. New town, new job for her, new school for me. When I started making friends, I created a whole different life story for myself. More importantly, mom and I finally started feeling like a family again. Until three months later."

Neal stood up and started pacing again, though he looked to exhausted to last much longer. Peter moved from his seat, as well, He leaned back against the table, prepared to catch Neal if he fell again. But something told him, he was going to have to catch his friend in an entirely different way, for entirely different reasons.

"It was a Tuesday when he found us," Neal said suddenly, his voice even more eerily calm than before. "Mom was at work. I was home from school because of a snow storm. Johnny showed up at the house, hopped up on one drug or another. Maybe even more than one. Anyway, he shoved me down into a coat closet, left me there the whole night, probably waiting for mom to get home. I couldn't let him get to her. I had to protect her, you understand? I had to protect her!"

Peter simply nodded, dreading what was to come.

"I felt around for the pistol that mom kept on the top shelf of the closet, then found the box with the bullets in it. She had gone to the firing range several times but didn't know that I had created my own firing range way out in the woods at the back of the property while she was at work. By this point, I knew my way around a pistol. I'd never loaded it in the dark before but I managed. Then I waited for Johnny to open the door again."

Sensing that the story was about to escalate into a whole new level of terror, Peter stood and slowly made his way over to Neal, who was currently frozen in place, staring at the floor.

"I stood on the top step and waited, planning to shoot him as soon as he opened the door. But when he did, I couldn't do it. I couldn't pull the trigger. Johnny looked at the gun shaking in my hands and laughed. He grabbed a hold of the barrel and used it to haul me back into the kitchen. The gun slid across the floor. I was sprawled out on on my back when he grabbed a knife from the drawer and came at me."

Despite his best efforts, the emotion was starting to leak back into Neal's voice. Peter took another few steps closer. Realizing that he was way out of his comfort zone but not caring in the least.

"The gun was a couple feet away from me. I rolled across the floor and snatched it up in my hands again. Johnny laughed but kept advancing on me. I scooted away from him until my back was up against the wall. I didn't want to shoot him, not really, but I had no where to go."

His voice was shaking now.

"Johnny saw the gun but didn't believe I would use it. He raised the knife over his head and lunged for me. I... I raised the gun... and fired."

Peter was almost within arm's reach now. "You had no other choice, Neal. You had to protect yourself, and your mom. You did good, kid. You did good."

The laugh that emanated from Neal was just this side of hysterical. Froze Peter in his tracks. When his CI looked up at him, the agent was horrified to see the anguish in his eyes, the tears that had finally slipped free. "Neal, what aren't you telling me?"

"Mom had come through the door just as I pulled the trigger. The bullet went through Johnny's chest and straight into her. Johnny died almost instantly, I think. But mom... mom lasted longer. I crawled over to her, begged her to forgive me, to not die. She died in my arms."

Peter reached out for him but Neal suddenly pulled away. "No, it's okay, Peter. I left town, created my first completely new identity. I'm not a kid, anymore. I'm over it."

"Yeah, I can tell," Peter said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Really. Hadn't thought of it in years until..."

"Until Keller," Peter finished for him.

"Right. So, you don't have to worry about me," Neal told him, wiping quickly at the stray tears on his cheeks. "I talked about it. I told you what happened. So, you can just tell me to 'cowboy up' and go back home to El, right?"

"Wrong, kiddo," Peter said.

For every step Peter took towards the ex-con, Neal took two steps away. Until, finally, his back was pressed against the wall.

"El told me, I'm not allowed to say 'cowboy up'."

Neal looked like a caged animal.

"Neal, you know I'm not going to hurt you, right?"

The younger man nodded but his eyes continued to dart from side to side in search of escape.

"So, then you're just afraid of showing weakness, then. Vulnerability?"

Peter was once again within arm's reach. Just when Neal was about to bolt, the agent put one hand on the back of his CI's neck and tugged him forward. "C'mere," he said simply as he wrapped his arms around Neal's back and shoulders and held him close.

For his part, Neal went completely rigid. Didn't dare to even take a breath.

Neal tried to pull away from the comfort. "Come on, Peter," he finally said. "You don't need to do this. I'm fine." His voice shook on the last two words, completely negating his statement. Still, he struggled to get free before it was too late.

Peter's mind raced, trying to get to the root of the problem fast. The opportunity to help Neal through this would most likely never present itself again. Then it hit him. The key.

As Neal continued to push against him, Peter whispered into his hair. "I'm sure your mom forgave you, Neal."

Neal's breath hitched, his struggles became more frantic as he pushed and pulled to get away, but Peter just held on that much tighter. He slipped one hand up to cup the back of the kid's head, his fingers tangling in the curly locks. "Free pass is still in effect, Neal. No judgement. I promise. Please, just _trust _me."

Finally, the first sob broke free. Then a second. Instead of struggling to get free, Neal was now clutching to Peter like a life preserver. When his legs gave out, Peter sank to the floor with him, not releasing his hold for a single moment.

With Neal curled against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably, Peter vaguely wondered when their relationship had changed from FBI agent and ex-con to father and son.

A few moments later, still sobbing, Neal weakly tried once again to pull away, only to be held even tighter by the arms of the only father-figure he cared to remember. He was mortified when Peter started rocking him back and forth but, for some reason, clung to the older man even tighter.

THE END. (FINALLY, RIGHT? LOL)

_A/N I'm really unsure of this chapter. Does it work? Does it suck? Please leave a review and let me know? Thanks so much for taking the time to read. I hope to hear your thoughts. :o) ~Kelcor_


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